Vail Daily Mountain Mischief: Histrionic hoedown

Every few days we wander through some local police reports looking for golden nuggets. We found some.

Histrionic Honey: Her traveling companions were irritated when she kicked the cabinets in the RV and slammed doors. They were upset when she kicked them and were near the end of their rope with her histrionics when she grabbed a two liter bottle of soda and launched it at the RV windshield. It left a $975 crack. But then, Histrionic Honey kicked the dogs and that was too much. The boyfriend called the cops, who were quick to respond. It says right here in the police report that Histrionic Honey was hollering at an “old white male,” when they drove up. Then it says he was born in 1957, which happens to be the same year as your Beloved Uncle Randy. While I happen to be too old to slam dunk, I’m young enough to dream and old enough to know how to make those dreams come true. Other people are old; I am seasoned. Histrionic Honey was born in 1978, almost 20 years her boyfriend’s junior.

Turns out that Histrionic Honey not only had a boyfriend, but was still legally married to the father of her three children. The kids were living with him. She was inconsolable because she had missed her 5-year-old’s graduation. Graduation from what is unclear in the police report, but if children inherit much of their intellect from their mother, and science suggests that they do, then the 5-year-old’s graduation was not from MIT.

But anyway, Histrionic Honey stomped into the RV to eat and calm down, although she had just eaten lunch a few moments before. The ability to immediately satisfy ones appetites in so many ways is just one of the glories of RV living. But at times they do get small. They were stopped at the I-70 scenic overlook in Edwards, the one off the eastbound lane that offers a spectacular view of New York Mountain and the Sawatch Range, where Capt. Craig Button crashed his A-10 a decade or so ago. While she was trying to kick and slap him, the boyfriend defended himself. Histrionic Honey apparently does not possess the grace of a Bolshoi Ballet dancer, and dropped onto her duff in the dirt.

Officers arrived, listened to everyone’s story and summoned Histrionic Honey.

“You’re taking me to jail,” she told the deputy, as though this was not her first trip and she was familiar with the route.

She said, right out loud and in English, the very language with which she had been berating her boyfriend, that she thought she’d be able to apologize to him, and they could be on their merry way.

In response, the deputy’s actions spoke louder than words. He slapped the handcuffs on her and hauled her off to the Eagle County Crossbar Hotel.

Penmanship counts, and if the deputy who’s writing the report about your graffiti can’t read it, it doesn’t count as a social statement. You’re just being a jerk. On the Edwards Access Road bridge, the one that crosses over the railroad tracks, a deputy found three unintelligible symbols spray painted in pink. The only word anyone could read was “Gabby,” scrawled in chalk. Maybe it’s a metaphor for life its ownself. The stuff we cannot understand or comprehend takes on permanence even when it’s cast in a softer, more sensitive hue. That which we thought we knew is temporary. Or maybe this was just a bunch of boneheads spray painting public property.